


you'll soon understand

by freezerjerky



Series: love of my life (you caught us off guard) [2]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 22:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15568137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freezerjerky/pseuds/freezerjerky
Summary: Hermann quirks his brow at them, eager to hear what explanation Newt is going to give for this.“Because these are kaiju and kaiju are really cool,” Newt explains. Of course, even after everything they’ve been through, Newt would still use the word cool to describe kaiju.in which Hermann and Newt have to explain a very difficult part of their history to a two year old





	you'll soon understand

**Author's Note:**

> Here's another installment- I have a few more fics planned for this (you can possibly pick up a few threads of the subject matters from this one, ha), so if you enjoy, please give a read and let me know what you think!

Children have favorites. That’s a reality of parenthood and Hermann’s honestly not surprised that Frankie takes a stronger interest in Newt. After all, Newt is one of Hermann’s two favorite people, so it only makes sense that he’s Frankie’s as well. It also helps that Newt has a child’s energy and curiosity and he can easily keep up with even the most energetic of toddlers. Hermann can only laugh to himself and hope that when she’s older and needs assistance with her maths homework, the tides will turn.

This morning, he watches as Frankie sits in Newt’s lap at the breakfast table. They’re sharing a singular bowl of cereal (no milk) and some apple slices between them. Technically Frankie should be in her chair, but this is the easiest way to get her to eat without any fuss and Hermann suspects that Newt welcomes the distraction from his efforts to read the morning newspaper.

They’ve very recently switched their semesters working, so Newt’s about two weeks fresh into his duty as a stay at home dad, meaning he’s had to learn how to clean the apartment and doesn’t feel the need to shave very often. Frankie loves to touch his beard and giggle at the prickly texture and Hermann doesn’t mind the way it makes him look a bit more rugged. The fact that he walks around in sweatpants and t-shirts for most of the day needs to be worked on, but it’s all about small steps.

“What’s this?” Frankie asks, breaking the peaceful morning silence. 

Hermann looks up from his own breakfast (oatmeal and a grapefruit) to see Frankie pointing curiously at Newt’s left forearm.

“That’s a tattoo,” Newt answers. “I’ve got a lot of them. Lots of grown-ups have them.”

“Dad tattoo?” She points across the table to Hermann.

“No, Dad’s a fuddy and doesn’t want to get any tattoos,” Newt teases.

“You’re not encouraging her to call me a fuddy, Newton,” Hermann warns, pointing a spoonful of oatmeal at him.

Newt sticks his tongue out. “Tattoos are pictures, bud,” he explains softly, “or words, or symbols, that people decide they want on their body. Dad doesn’t want any, but Daddy got a very big tattoo.”

“Why?” Frankie queries, her most common and familiar question around the house.

Hermann quirks his brow at them, eager to hear what explanation Newt is going to give for this.

“Because these are kaiju and kaiju are really cool,” Newt explains. Of course, even after everything they’ve been through, Newt would still use the word cool to describe kaiju. Within two weeks of closing the breach, Newt had added to his existing tattoos, extending the motif further down onto his thighs. Hermann’s one comfort in life is that this chapter of their lives is done and the tattoos are likely done as well.

“Cool!” Frankie exclaims, tracing the lines of the tattoo with her finger. Newt uses this as a means to finish his breakfast while she’s preoccupied.

“I need to go to the store quickly,” Hermann announces. It’s a Saturday morning but he doesn’t plan to leave the house for the remainder of the weekend. “Do you need anything besides milk?”

He rises slowly, grabbing his cane from where it’s resting on the edge of the table. This is normal for him, his short stroll to the store. In fact, his physical therapist recommends it as daily exercise. Admittedly, while he likes to take the walk as a family, he also relishes in the quiet moments and the ease of slipping into and out of the store without either his child or partner asking for something outlandishly sweet or unnecessary.

Before Hermann leaves he drops a kiss to the top of Frankie’s head, which is all but ignored, and a kiss to Newt’s lips, which is returned with eager appreciation. 

“I don’t need anything,” Newt answers finally as he bounces Frankie gently on his knee. “We’re going to finish up breakfast and then go play.”

“Please do not make a mess so early in the morning,” he warns.

The grin Newt gives is not promising, but there’s no need to argue this point.

 

When Hermann returns with his reusable bag in hand, Frankie is crying very loudly from the living room. He stops in the doorway, certain that Newt must have this under control, before stepping into the kitchen to put away the shopping.

“No, dude- bud, it’s okay,” Newt is half pleading as Frankie presses her face against his shoulder. He tries to pat her back feebly.

“What’s happened?” Hermann asks, and judging by the look this elicits on Newt’s face, Newt has clearly done something wrong.

“I’ve got this,” Newt explains and Frankie lets out a wail.

Hermann flicks his eyes to the television in the corner and some familiar news footage is paused on the screen. 

“Absolutely not, Newton.” He drops both the bag and his cane before walking over to extract Frankie from Newt’s arms. “What the-” He has to bite down on his tongue to keep from swearing. “What has your father done, Frankie?” It’s a smarter move to talk to her, to let his tone drift to something sweeter.

“Dude, she kept asking about my tattoos, so I thought maybe she’d want to see the real things,” Newt defends, gesturing at the television. “I didn’t expect her to start screaming and crying when she saw them. We’d just started watching, honest.”

“She is two years old,” Hermann says, his tone even but betraying the edge of anger. “You do not show our two year old daughter footage of an actual kaiju attack.”

Newt rises to his feet, clearly ready to continue the argument, but he must think better of it, because instead he leaves to collect the bag that Hermann’s let fall to the ground. Hermann settles down on the couch with Frankie carefully perched in his lap, slyly switching off the television.

“Are you alright, mein Spatz?” he asks gently.

Frankie nods and snuggles closer against him, wiping the tears from her eyes. 

“That was certainly a scare, but it was just on the television. You will never have to see that again,” he continues. “Your father is very sorry that he showed you something to scare you.”

“Please don’t speak for me, Hermann,” Newt says as he steps back into the room, leaning Hermann’s cane on the edge of the couch. “I am sorry though, little bud. I thought you’d think they were...cool. Not scary.”

“Very scary,” Frankie whispers, her eyes wide. She presses her face into Hermann’s chest again.

“They’re not going to hurt you, don’t worry. I-”

“Newton.” Hermann shoots a glare at him, a subtle warning to either change the topic completely or leave the room.

Clearly resigned, Newt chooses the second option and turns on his heel into the bedroom. The responsible thing would no doubt be to stay and help comfort his child, but Hermann would rather Newt do it right if he’s going to do it at all. Frankie needs to think of pleasant things, not something that’s scared her so much. He talks to her in hushed tones about their plan to go to the beach when they go to visit some friends, and what treat she can have after lunch.

 

“You coddle her,” Newt says, settling down on the couch. 

Frankie’s just laid down for her afternoon nap, so they will have anywhere from fifteen minutes to an hour of quiet. Quiet has always been a relative thing when Newt was involved, though, so it’s no surprise that he wants to use this time to argue.

“I do not coddle her,” Hermann answers from where he’s sitting with his tablet on the opposite end of the couch. “She’s two. She does not need to understand all of the terrifying things in the world at that age.”

“It’s healthy for kids to process these things,” Newt explains. “When I was a kid, I learned so much because my dad took the time to explain everything. Even the scary stuff.”

An approximation of Newt as a small child flashes before Hermann’s eyes. Probably dirty from exploring places he shouldn’t, wide eyed and with a few too many scrapes from his adventures. Some of this he gathers from the Newt he’s gotten to know over the years, some of it he knows painfully well from having literally been in Newt’s head.

“Oh, apologies. I didn’t realize you father sat you down to tell you about the apocalyptic giant alien monsters.”

“You mean the really cool aliens. Kids like stuff like that! How was I supposed to know it would scare her that badly?” Newt defends.

“Because she’s a small child and not all children were like you, Newton. We are waiting until she’s older to tell her about the kaijus and that’s final.”

“Kaiju,” Newt corrects. “No s. And I don’t really see the issue with telling her now. I’d rather we tell her than some grubby weird kid in daycare.”

Hermann laughs at this. “This is not the birds and the bees, you know. I don’t think there’s a precedent for this.”

“Dude, this isn’t just some thing that happened. This was a big part of our lives. This is why we even met. We can’t just sit around waiting for the right time, she’s gonna start seeing them on television or in ads or-”

“Then we’ll do our best to protect her.” Hermann is determined to keep her safe, and to let her keep her precious world intact for as long as she can.

Newt frowns deeply, but Hermann does his best to pretend to not see.

“You. Of all people. One of the most blunt and honest humans I’ve met, want to sugar coat the war that we were fucking heroes of for our own child?” Newt asks, deeply skeptical.

“Language, Newton.”

“She’s not here. I think I can say fuck when I want to, and if you’re going to enforce that rule when you want to argue with me, you have to enforce it when you want to  _ fuck _ me too, just remember that.”

Hermann sighs deeply. “Don’t be so crass. I’m trying to make you understand why I’m making this decision.”

“If you recall, the papers we filed with the court didn’t just have your name on them,” Newt’s voice is increasing steadily in volume but he does not shout. They’ve become masters of not shouting since they’ve had to accommodate a child. “And if you wanted complete control of how Frankie is raised, you shouldn’t have asked me to raise her with you.”

“You’ve very likely traumatized her, why are you acting like you have any moral high ground in this?”

“Because the best way for her to not be afraid is to talk through what’s scaring her,” Newt defends.

Admittedly, this is not a bad concept. But they’re both too blunt about these things and too personally invested. Hermann is only imagining disaster.

“When she’s older and can understand better,” Hermann insists.

“Kids get shit when they’re that little. My dad raised me to try to understand the world and while I couldn’t fully grasp everything at her age, it definitely helped me grow into a relatively well adjusted guy, don’t you think?”

“Not everyone had a father like Jacob,” Hermann states coolly, then rises to his feet. It stings that someone who is supposed to understand him so well does not understand this. “I’m going to start cooking dinner.”

Ever persistent, Newt follows him to the kitchen a few minutes later, wrapping his arms around Hermann as he stands over the kitchen sink.

“You’re not your father,” he mumbles against Hermann’s shoulder. 

“I learned about the harsh realities of the world early on as well,” Hermann explains. “But I was not given the nurturing hand or comfort to allow myself to process them very well.” The contrast of his own childhood to Newt’s flashes bleakly through his mind. Pristine clothing. Prim attitude. Bright and honest but no sense of joy. He doesn’t have long to dwell on his thoughts as Newt tightens his hold on him.

“What’re we cooking tonight?” Newt asks, peering over his shoulder. This is not a victory, Hermann knows, and Newt will likely bring the topic up again. He doubts Newt will try showing Frankie scary videos again, but it’s an unavoidable topic with Newt once it’s been started. 

Hermann holds up the bowl of potatoes that he’s currently washing. Neither of them are particularly adept at cooking, but they manage well enough. Thankfully, Frankie has a very simple palate and isn’t too picky so long as her food isn’t too complex. Newt will eat anything he can put hot sauce on, which is almost anything.

“I wanna take you on a date soon,” Newt admits. “Out to dinner, just the two of us.”

“Newton, we have talked about this.”

“I haven’t seen you alone in months. The woman downstairs has offered to babysit countless times, you can use your computer skills to run a very thorough background check on her.”

“The woman downstairs won’t work as a sitter,” Hermann says firmly. “By default of the fact that her apartment is directly below ours.”

“What does that mean?” Newt asks, nuzzling against the back of his neck.

“Well, we’d surely want to take Frankie to the babysitter’s for a chance to have an empty apartment and she’s a bit too close in proximity and may hear something.”

A smirk spreads across his face when he feels Newt duck his head, pressing it against his back. Hermann can imagine the blush across his cheeks without seeing it.

 

The amorous mood continues into the evening. Neither of them is above shooting glances across the dinner table, or while watching an obnoxiously charming children’s movie after dinner. Still, once Frankie’s been read a story and tucked into bed, they return to the living room to read for a few more hours before making the way to their own room.

“I’ve been thinking about your beard,” Hermann remarks, laying half draped over Newt. They’ve been lazily kissing in bed for about twenty minutes.

“My beard? What about it?” Newt asks.

“It suits you, I think. In a way I wouldn’t expect.”

“I’m going to shave it when I go back to work,” he declares and Hermann knows this already. That’s part of the appeal, that this is something that seems reserved for their intimate moments.

Hermann kisses Newt softly. Naturally, Newt takes the chance to pull away and rub his stubbly cheek against Hermann’s.

“And what do you look like with facial hair?” Newt questions. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with more than a few days’ growth.”

“And you never will.”

Newt pouts outright at this and Hermann presses a kiss to his mouth, feeling the pout melt into something altogether more pleasant. Hermann slips his hand slowly into the waistband of Newt’s pajama bottoms. Suddenly, the air is punctuated with a very sharp wail and they both sit up.

“It’s my turn to get her,” Newt says, all but bounding out of the bed. Hermann listens for footsteps and is certain he only hears a few strides before Newt’s in Frankie’s room.

When Newt returns with Frankie in his arms, she’s crying louder than expected and reaching out for Hermann. Newt hands her over wordlessly and steps into their walk-in closet. Hermann sits up properly and settles Frankie in his lap.

“Did you have a nightmare?” he asks softly and then presses a kiss to her temple. “Don’t fret, we’re both here.”

“The big monsters,” Frankie answers.

Hermann frowns deeply. He was optimistic the ordeal of the morning would be over, at least as far as Frankie herself was involved. “That does sound very scary. But you’re here with me now.”

Newt slides back onto his side of the bed then. Previously he had been wearing just his bottoms, but now he’s put on a long sleeve shirt. Even given the current situation, he seems particularly withdrawn but he doesn’t say anything.

“Do you want to sing a song, little bud?” Newt asks. This is a favorite form of distraction for Newt. Hermann says it’s because Frankie is possibly the only person who enjoys his singing, but he hopes Newt knows this is not true. It’s bad, but it’s endearingly bad.

Frankie nods, albeit hesitantly. She looks as though she’s not certain she trusts Newt at the moment. Newt starts his own rendition of “You Are My Sunshine” which is the same as the original, except if Frankie doesn’t fall asleep early on, he starts to make up his own nonsense lyrics. When it’s not unplanned, he’ll sometimes sing with the help of a guitar or the keyboard, but tonight he has to make do with his voice.

Slowly and reluctantly, Frankie drifts back to sleep. She sways and wavers in Hermann’s arms and the singing doesn’t stop until her cheek is pressed firmly against Hermann’s upper arm. He lets her sleep like that for several minutes until he carefully lays her in the middle of the bed. Normally, Newt would protest her sleeping in the bed on the grounds of not wanting a child who sleeps in the bed until she’s too embarrassed to spend time with her parents, but he doesn’t say anything as he lays back.

“You didn’t personally implant that fear into her brain, Newton,” Hermann whispers, because he does hate to see Newt so withdrawn.

“She saw my tattoos and started crying even more.” Newt rolls onto his side, facing away from his family. “

“She’ll get used to them again. They never bothered her before, after all.”

“Yeah, I know. We should stop talking, I don’t want to wake her.”

Hermann reaches out in the darkness, gently squeezing Newt’s shoulder before he withdraws his arm. 

 

When Hermann takes the next few days to take a step back, to really see what others see, he starts to realize how unavoidable the truth is. For his part, he’s so used to the kaiju attacks as part of his daily life that he’s not surprised to see images anywhere he turns. But even though the war is over, there’s still magazine covers or movies or strangely offensive advertisements with giant monsters everywhere. Eventually Frankie will take notice, she’s a very bright girl, and now that she knows what they are, she’s going to be looking for things to be afraid of.

Worse than the concern that Newt is going to bring the topic of telling her about them back up, he’s becoming more certain that Newt is right. 

Upon returning from work late Tuesday afternoon, he finds Newt and Frankie both seated by one of Newt’s keyboards. Frankie teeters precariously close to the edge, watching Newt’s fingers move adeptly across the keys and occasionally pressing down on one of the keys. This earns her a very fake stern look and makes her laugh, only tempting her to do it again. Hermann sweeps past them, kissing the top of Newt’s head and ruffling Frankie’s hair.

“Dad!” she calls out, reaching up to her head to defend her hair from any further damage.

“Apologies, I didn’t see you there,” Hermann teases. “Do I smell dinner?”

Newt turns to him with a smile. “What you smell is the finest meals our local Chinese restaurant can provide because I burnt the casserole.”

“You burnt it.”

“Oh, yeah. It was a whole ordeal. There was smoke. I had to put Frankie in the bathroom.”

“Good heavens, Newton.” Hermann feels his jaw involuntarily clenching. It’s becoming a less common occurrence, this tension, but it’s almost relieving to discover it still exists. Keeps the relationship exciting, after all.

Newt breaks out into a grin. “I’m kidding. I just really wanted Chinese.”

“Why on earth did I ever-” Hermann stops himself there, because the words he wants to say are not true. They are not married and while they’ve discussed it, they simply haven’t had the time. “Choose you. Of all humans.”

“Well, you didn’t choose me. We were thrust together by fate and our mutual interest in giant monsters.”

“Newton,” Hermann warns. 

“I haven’t mentioned them around Frankie again,” he answers, dejected. Hermann realizes then that Newt is wearing a sweatshirt, still covering up his tattoos completely. As much as he appreciates this courtesy out of love, it does pain him to see Newt concealing something he’s so very passionate about.

“We’ll talk about that later tonight,” Hermann says. It should be a suggestion, but it’s more or less a command. “If you still wish to.”

“Dude, it’s- it’s whatever, you know?” Newt rises to his feet, lifting Frankie carefully after he does. She clings to his neck dearly, like he’s the most precious thing in her very small world. There’s no jealousy in Hermann’s heart, only an agreement that he can’t quite articulate to a small child, his partner, or himself.

“I want her to grow up knowing about who we are as people,” Hermann explains. “And I don’t think she can really know you without knowing about the kai- them.”

Newt looks like he’s processing for a few long moments. His expression betrays understanding but also a deeper concern. “I just don’t want her to be afraid of me.”

 

They stare at each other for a few moments across the kitchen table. Hermann has made some late night tea (peppermint and chamomile) for both of them and, while Newt doesn’t usually drink tea, he’ll drink anything with enough sugar present. It’s part of his charm. 

“You were right,” Hermann admits, holding his cup delicately in the air. “I do coddle her and she’s going to find out about everything that happened during the war one way or another. It should come from a gentle and loving place.”

“I can’t do it.” Newt wraps his hands around his cup. Hermann knows this must be serious, because Newt hasn’t commented on the declaration that he’s right. “I can’t risk saying or doing something that’s just going to scare her.”

“She’s not afraid of you.”

Hermann slides his hand out onto the table, palm up. It takes a few moments, but Newt takes it and they slot their hands together, sitting for a few moments in the silence. The joy of having been in someone’s head means that the silences seem normal, that there’s less time for words.

“Upsetting her with the video was one thing,” Newt explains at length. “That was my bad. Shitty parenting. But when she woke from that dream and saw me and just started to scream and scream- I don’t ever want to feel like that again.”

“It’s perfectly normal for her to be afraid of things. When I was a child, I was terrified of horses. Do you know what my father said?”

“I’m sure it was something awful. No offense. Or full offense.”

The smile that passes Hermann’s lips is both amused and slightly sad. “It was something awful. But you’re not the type of father who says something awful and means it, and that’s the difference. It’s an accident when it happens, and one you try to fix. You’ve been walking around in very frumpy sweatshirts for days now.”

“Preventative measure,” Newt states.

At that statement, Hermann relinquishes his hand, only enough to slide his fingers forward, under the cuff of the sweatshirt. He rubs a small circle on the inside of Newt’s wrist.

“I like how comfortable you are with your body,” Hermann says, his voice low. “And I love how willing you are to be whatever this family needs you to be by trying to cover it, but I can assure you that covering your very expensive, very well done tattoos for the rest of your life is not necessary.”

Newt leans forward, pleased with the touch. “I’m taking this as you complimenting my tattoos.”

“I simply meant that you spent a large amount of money on them and they’re at least very high quality. And that I prefer when you sleep with no shirt on.”

Hermann’s long fingers stretch farther up the sleeve of Newt’s sweatshirt as he speaks. 

“You wear a full pajama set to bed most nights, so I’m not sure you can be making requests about what I wear to bed,” Newt teases softly. “But if you want we can go to bed and take my shirt off right now.”

Not one to let an opportunity pass by, Hermann foregoes finishing his tea and follows Newt to their bedroom.

 

It takes a few more days to think of how to have a conversation about kaiju with a toddler. Hermann lies in bed thinking it over for two nights, wondering if he can explain his past in a way that doesn’t frighten Frankie. Maybe it is too soon. They can have this talk when she’s about to go to school or maybe when she’s getting married. If she gets married, because it is 2026, after all, and it’s not right to assume she’ll want to get married ever.

No, he thinks, remembering the kaiju figures Newt has proudly on display in his office, or the fact that so many of the most important people in his life are a result of this war. Frankie needs to grow up knowing about this and she needs to be unafraid. It’s likely she won’t understand this time. She’s still very young, and she might be afraid still for some time and that’s alright. This isn’t his childhood, afraid of being kicked by a horse and damaged, or left alone in his room because he’d cried too much when his dog died.

Frankie has the fortune of having two good dads, and Hermann knows he had one not so good one. He thinks of Newt, who had a father and an uncle, and how fine of a man he’s turned out to be, and it’s hard to feel afraid of the task at hand.

It’s Saturday, a full week from the initial incident, and everyone’s still warm in bed. Frankie will likely sleep for another half hour and, if left to his own devices, Newt will sleep for the rest of the morning. Hermann, still half asleep, slides a cold hand up Newt’s back, under the t-shirt he’s wearing. (The night before Newt insisted that it wasn’t to hide, but because it’s cold. Given the fact that the down blanket is not keeping Hermann very warm, he’s inclined to agree.) 

“Fuck, dude,” Newt mumbles, attempting a glance over his shoulder. “You’re going to need to start wearing gloves to bed.”

“It’ll be warm soon enough.” It better be. “I want to tell Frankie about the kaijus today. If you don’t want me to, I understand.”

“No, it’s. It’s fine.”

Hermann can tell by the tense lines of Newt’s back that it’s not completely fine, but his voice shows understanding. Frankie had a nightmare a few nights back, but seems mostly better after the incident.

“I don’t expect her to understand, but I think we have to know that this is a process.”

“Parenting is a process. There’s court dates involved and everything.” Newt rolls onto his back. “I think I’ll make some waffles for breakfast.”

“Do you know how to make waffles?”

“No, but I bought a waffle iron yesterday and I have six PhDs, so I think I can figure it out.”

“Best of luck.”

The first batch of waffles is badly burnt, but the second comes out entirely too perfect.

 

Frankie occupies herself after breakfast playing with Hermann’s glasses, looping the chain around her own neck and then wearing them to comedic effect. This is not a behavior that should be encouraged, but it’s too endearingly cute to be stopped.

“Spatz,” Hermann warns gently when he has to take them from her. “I need those to read.”

She reaches for them for just a moment before withdrawing her hand. He remains strong, even in the face of the tiniest, most pleading pout. At her age, she’s too young for him to stop coddling her completely, but he does need to set boundaries for how much he refrains from admonishing her.

“Did you have any bad dreams last night?” Hermann asks. He’s fascinated by the complexity of a small children’s mind and life, and the things he doesn’t notice even while being present.

“No dream,” she answers. 

There’s a clattering in the kitchen, and then a shouted expletive and the ensuing apology, shouted even louder. Quiet is truly a foreign concept in this home.

“Do you remember those monsters your father showed you?” Hermann begins, feeling like he’s either ripping off a bandaid or starting a torture session.

“Scary.” Frankie nods solemnly. “No monsters please, Dad.”

“No, there are no more monsters. There used to be a lot of them, but they’re all gone now.”

Her eyes go wide with the explanation, like her worldview has changed even though this is knowledge she’s only had for a week of her young life.

“All of them?”

Hermann smiles softly at her. “Yes, all of them. Because very brave people helped get rid of them. And no one was braver than-” There’s crashing yet again, and then an even more poorly concealed expletive. Hermann debates changing his answer completely. “No one was braver than your father.”

Newt pops his head into the living room then. “Sorry about that. Frankie, don’t say a single word you hear Daddy say, ever. They’re very, very bad words. I was cleaning up and I broke the waffle iron.”

After a very fond roll of his eyes, Hermann pats the couch next to him. “Sit down, please.” He doesn’t wait for Newt to sit to continue, however. “Your father knows the most about the kaiju of anyone in the whole world, so he knows better than anyone how scary they are.”

Once Newt is sitting, Hermann takes his arm, carefully extending it towards Frankie, who flinches away.

“Dude,” Newt says under his breath.

“It’s alright, Frankie. Tattoos are not real,” Hermann explains gently. “They’re pictures. All of these monsters are gone forever.”

Frankie hesitates, but then reaches out, touching the tattoo on Newt’s forearm. It’s not with the same level of innocent curiosity as she had a week prior, but she does not flinch when her hand lands on the kaiju’s mouth. The realization must dawn on her that this is just part of her father who she loves, not some terrifying creature.

“Your Uncle Raleigh ki- got rid of that one,” Newt starts, his voice cracking. “You remember him from Christmas? Him and Aunt Mako helped get rid of them, they used these really cool giant machines.”

“And your father helped,” Hermann supplies. 

The blush that creeps up on Newt’s cheeks is far too endearing. “Your dad helped too. So not only are the monsters gone, but you’ve got the two best dads to keep them away,” Newt explains, pride apparent in his tone.

“So when you see pictures of the monsters,” Hermann adds, “it’s okay to be scared. But we’ll keep you safe.”

Frankie nods, though Hermann’s sure she doesn’t fully understand the concept. It’s alright, they’ll continue to assure her that she’s safe and cared for. That’s the job of parents after all.

“We love you very much,” Newt chimes in, finally pulling his arm away.

“Can we have ice cream?” Frankie asks. She’s becoming a master manipulator of tender moments. This is definitely something she’s learning from Newt, Hermann thinks.

“Not a chance, little bud,” Newt answers, stifling a laugh. “We just had breakfast. We can sing a song or play with toys or read a book.”

“Sing, please.”

There truly is no chance of a quiet morning in this home. Hermann adores this fact and even decides to sing along this once.

**Author's Note:**

> Can be found at tumblr @ [pendragoff](http://pendragoff.tumblr.com) or on twitter @ [newtguzzler](http://twitter.com/newtguzzler).


End file.
